


Thunder

by InsaneWeasel



Series: Tucker Boner's Relationship with Lord Mianite [1]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite Fandom
Genre: Choking, I dont write this stuff normal i swear, I'm just slapping this up here, M/M, Sex, dubcon, i dont know what to tag this, more added later if I can revisit the work and add them, uh...idk? ask for tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-29 15:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneWeasel/pseuds/InsaneWeasel
Summary: Joining the ranks of my fellow fellows of Mianite who decided this was a ship all of a sudden and we should write the filthiest crap for it--yah. I took it upon myself as a challenge.Tucker fucks up showing off his armor to Tom. Lord Mianite isn't happy. The plot isn't really that deep man. Yanno why you here.





	Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I don't write this normally. So please, don't think this is my brand or that I'll write anything like this again.

Tom was giggling like a madman, standing in the remains of Tucker’s house with Jordan trailing behind either of them, stifling his own laughter. “Oh—you fucked up!” Tom said between laughs. 

The room was lit only by the fires torching it and the Dianitee was leaning against the door frame enjoying the sight. Beside him was a shorter man, hair glistening with sweat as if he had run here the moment the screaming started. Jordan snorted and covered his mouth.

Tucker felt himself grit his teeth. He stared at the pitiful armor-stand where his Mianite gifted god armor was supposed to be—sitting there—secret as can be. Flames were climbing the walls around them and destroying more of his precious things. He balled his hands into fists and turned on Tom.

“This is your fault!” Tucker yelled. 

He found his sword and pulled it free and watched as Tom started dancing backwards on light feet. He half-hoped Jordan would stop Tom and lend him a hand for once—at the least go get some water—but instead he just stifled another laugh and stepped to the side as Tom slid past. He saw Tom’s eyes go to Jordan with some caution before back to him. The smarmy look permeated.

“Come and fight me, then,” Tom beckoned with his hand before pausing, bringing it to his mouth as if shocked, “—oh that’s right—you lost your flashy god armor!” Tom’s mockery broke off into cackles and Tucker shoved past Jordan to swing at Tom. This was bad. This was very bad. Tucker was in deep shit. He had been told to hide it away until the time was right, but then Tom had come around the past few days, mocking him and his low resources. He had to show him up—he just had to!

Jordan chuckled audibly, his smile not hidden behind his hand anymore and Tucker turned his anger to him. “Well, why didn’t you help stop him!” Tucker snapped. Jordan raised his hands in weak defense, fighting to push the grin off his face. “Hey—I was…organizing my chests…”

“Jordan was jerking off, bet,” Tom sneered from the doorway. Jordan pushed him lightly and Tom laughed, gripping Jordan’s hand. “Come on, I got shit to show you, Sparklez—you’ll love it.” Tom tugged Jordan out the door and Tucker, looking at the wreckage groaned, hearing Jordan’s voice as he was pulled out.

“Will I?”

Tucker half-heartedly put out the remaining fires, plopping himself down on the stone steps and staring at his ruined house. It was his second-house, luckily. He and Sonja still technically shared a base, but that terrible pirate had come into it and invited herself to their amenities and Tucker decided he’d rather not live with her. Sonja didn’t mind her, but then again Capsize thought Sonja had more brains than any of the boys combined. She treated Sonja better than she treated them.

He blew a raspberry, resting his head on his hand and leaning into it, feeling the cooling night air. It wasn’t like Mianite would ask about the armor for awhile at least. He could come up with some excuse or plan out a way to make this Tom’s fault.

It  _ was _ Tom’s fault.

Well…it  _ pretty much _ was Tom’s fault.

So, yeah, Tucker showed him the armor—let Tom gawk over it and realize how superior Tucker was. Tom had suggested Tucker’s fighting still sucked in comparison to his armor. Tucker decided to prove Tom wrong. Tucker had a flaming sword for a weapon—holy justice dealer and all; the white flaming sword fit the image.

And then he swung the sword into a zombie and that zombie didn’t die—it instead took it upon itself to light everything Tucker owned on fire with its body on its way out. Tom had a grand time laughing about that, and Tucker had ended up stop-drop-and-rolling as the zombie, in its final embrace before death, grabbed Tucker and ended up lighting him and his armor ablaze. He rolled the fire out—but by then his armor had scorch marks and was ruined.

He’d just about gone off on Tom when he heard the telltale hiss and found himself catapulted into a respawn, his armor gone from his body. He hurried back—and saw it. It wasn’t just any creeper. It had been electrified. The armor was gone. His house ablaze and in ruins.

And Tom giggling in the destruction of it all.

“That,” Tom had said with joyful tears, “went about as good for me as it did rotten for you.” Jordan had arrived back by then, questions brimming. Where he had been just for this one occasion beats Tucker. Jordan had helped him the past few days with moving and at some point excused himself to go—as Tom likely suggested—jack off.

Tucker was mortified at the memory of his failure and he buried his face into his hands and screamed his stupidity out. 

4Gods—why did Mianite hate him so much? He gave Tucker cool armor with gold shapes and designs embossed across the chest plate that made him look elegant and knightly and then said not to wear it yet—and of course if Tucker chose to wear it the worst possible situation would happen. Of course, that’s how it would play out.

Maybe he could get ahead of the curve and apologize, admit—despite it not being his fault at all—to it being his fault to earn humility points and swear up and down he’d never do anything so stupid again. He’d kiss the ground at Mianite’s feet for dramatic effect and Mianite would appreciate his honesty and bravery and not throw him into a pit of lava with all his good gear on him.

Tucker groaned and reluctantly forced himself to stand. Mianite was going to fuck his whole life up even more, wasn’t he? He clambered to the Mianite temple, rehearsing his lines silently in his head. He had a book and quill to write a prayer—so it wasn’t like Mianite would just appear right as he sent the prayer and murder him.

Tucker sat on the steps and hurriedly wrote out his apology. He was a master wordsmith—or he liked to think he possessed a little more eloquence than Tom and a little more feeling than Jordan.

_ I was safely stowing the armor away, and I made a lapse in judgement. I hadn’t thought to lock my door and Tom had came bumbling in and set everything ablaze—as he tends to do. I take full responsibility for this and understand if you’re upset. I vow to get revenge on Tom in your holy name. Dianite and his followers will pay. _

Tucker snorted, and finished off what he thought was a surefire way to get Mianite to believe him. Tom was the best person to blame in any situation, because there was a good amount of times he too forgot if he had done something or not. Besides, it’s not like Tom didn’t deserve it. Maybe Mianite would understand Tom needed to be brought down and take it upon himself to do it.

He entered the temple, found the prayer box and tossed the book in it. He felt pretty confident he was in the clear. He exited the temple, feet cheerily thumping down the steps.

Tucker was about to call it a day when he heard the crackle of thunder and then the sky began to darken—soon the only light was intermittent lighting flashes.

“Oh, fuck me,” Tucker hissed. Mianite did not sound happy in the slightest.

“Tucker Boner,” boomed Mianite’s voice.

“My lord,” Tucker answered, turning to face the god. Mianite was an imposing god—at least seven feet tall and barrel chested with large pecs and an inhumanly chiseled set of abs. He had biceps larger than Tucker’s head and hands that looked to be able to crush obsidian. And in this moment—those hands were clenched into fists—and Mianite’s icy cold eyes were piercing into his soul.

“You directly disobeyed me,” Lord Mianite thundered, lightning flashing behind him as he spoke.

“I…I didn’t,” Tucker argued. “I—I didn’t do anything—it was all Tom—as you can see in my—” Tucker started. In seconds Mianite had crossed the room and he had Tucker by the collar of his shirt.

“Do not  _ lie _ to me.”

Tucker clutched the hand holding his collar as it lifted him a foot into the air. He was left dangling. The god didn’t breath, Tucker noticed. Nor did his arm waver even supporting all of Tucker’s weight. Tucker’s eyes went to the bulging muscles and he felt his throat clench for reasons he wasn’t sure he understood. Okay, okay, Tucker thought to himself. He went through his options—Mianite was furious and it was at him. Maybe Mianite took that note too seriously when Tucker said he took all the blame.

“…It was still Tom’s fault—he’s the one who started—”

Mianite’s hand moved and now it pressed directly in on his throat. Tucker felt a rush of panic, and he clung to the god’s wrist with both of his hands.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Mianite said. “One.”

Tucker reeled. “Okay—I was just showing it off! Mianite, Tom was bad mouthing all of us—I just wanted to prove him wrong! He just screwed it all up!” Tucker pleaded. He was feeling a strange mixture of emotions rising in his chest. He struggled to breathe, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You have failed me,” Mianite boomed—his voice rattling Tucker and shaking the whole of the temple. Thunder crackled across the sky and the lightning flashed with Mianite’s eyes, blinding Tucker momentarily. Tucker strained against the hand, but he knew he was well and truly fucked. Mianite wanted him dead. Mianite was never going to give him shit again and soon he’d be begging Jordan for diamonds and Tom would be hanging around laughing at him and Sonja would think he was the worst, most incapable person there was and Capsize would just tell Sonja she was right about it all.

“F-forgive me,” Tucker said, his voice strained to hoarseness. The hand tightened and Tucker saw stars. He felt his blood rush as he panicked, his whole body seizing with the pain.

The god looked at him remorseless and without an ounce of forgiveness. He scrutinized Tucker, his eyes boring into him. The eyes swept across his shaking frame with at first, an air of distaste—then…something else. The god remained silent, a strange expression flitted across his face. Tucker realized a little too slowly why. Mianite’s hand had relaxed some, and Tucker sucked in a breath. He felt with the rise of his chest something else.

Oh god—he just…why now of all places? Was this a kink he had all along? Did he always have it? Was it just a nervous boner? God—he was going to have to move. Go live in the middle of nowhere underground.

Mianite’s mouth twisted. “I see,” he said. “Is this not a punishment?”

Tucker almost said yes. He didn’t want to be choked out. But on the other hand, what if Mianite’s alternative was to just blow all his shit to smithereens. Tucker decided to just play into this, no big deal. Just a boner between two dudes. “No, no,” Tucker reassured. “It is a punishment—this all is really bad, just ignore that.”

The god was stock still. Mianite let out a quick sigh, as if he was trying to reel in whatever human-esque emotion he was currently having thanks to Tucker Boner’s boner. Tucker fidgeted uncomfortably. He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach and Tucker tried to ignore the feelings pushing from his throat to his dick.

He had a kink, he guessed. When this was done he was going to go as Jordan did and “sort through his chests.” Mianite put pressure back on Tucker’s throat and this time Tucker noticed Mianite wasn’t staring at him as harshly. Instead, he stared at Tucker with a more reserved approach. Half-lidded eyes watched his movements cautiously. The blood rush and lack of air hit him again and Tucker couldn’t help the whine that escaped from his throat.

At this point he’d accept getting his shit smited—because any more of this and he was going to be dying in another sense. Mianite’s eyes lazily drifted south, back to his crotch, then his eyes went back to Tucker’s face. He seemed reluctantly amused.

Tucker was trying not to make this awkward and sexual, he really was. Yet, a completely different part of him was ready for his god to fuck him over in new and exciting ways. This could be good, very good. His brain told him this. Well—maybe not his brain.

Mianite's mouth tightened. He didn't breathe. Tucker swallowed and he watched as Mianite delicately put a hand on Tucker's hip, and then made eye contact with him once more.

"I must ask...this is a consensual punishment, yes?" Mianite said quietly.

Tucker nearly couldn't think up words. His fingers loosened on Mianite’s arm for a second and the pressure on his throat reminded him what situation he still was in. He thought about Mianite fucking him on the steps of the temple with thunder still rumbling overhead and a very big part of him was all for it. He tried to make a sound, something like "god, yes" but he just made a flustered noise.

"No?" Mianite seemed faintly concerned. Tucker shook his head as much as he could and this time hoarsely shouted: "Yes, god, fuck--" and he saw that concerned look fade into some amusement. The hand on his hip felt warm and Tucker tilted his head up as he felt the god’s thumb drift over his pelvis.

Mianite moved his hand smoothly, undoing Tucker's belt before pausing, letting it fall to the ground unceremoniously. "You'll die if I keep choking you won't you?" Tucker shrugged. He was far more concerned with leaving his boner untouched. Not that he could do much right now.

Mianite lowered him and loosened his grip on Tucker's throat some. Tucker could hardly feel his legs and felt himself buckle as his feet touched the ground. Mianite's hand returned to his hip, firm.

Mianite steadied him. "I confess to not knowing the limits of humans."

Tucker ignored this. Limits didn’t exist in his horny brain. Mianite moved his hand to Tucker's shoulder and guided him into the temple, out of the direct eyeline of either a schadenfreude enjoying Tom or any other person come to see what fate befell him.

As they entered the sanctum, the cold night air starting to bite at Tucker’s neck. Mianite drew Tucker close to his chest for a moment to adjust their position before laying the man ungainly on the ground. Tucker was on his back, the cold marble brushing against the back of his neck and arms. His hat had been blown off or knocked off at some point and he felt his hair disheveled and was tempted to reach up and scratch at it, but was still getting his bearings.

He felt Mianite’s hands vanish from his body, focusing on his toga where his fingers were untying the knot at the top of his shoulder. Tucker watched him, sucking in heavy breaths as his chest and throat burned with the sudden return of steady air. He saw Mianite’s eyes flash with a rumble of thunder, briefly illuminating the room. His breath was caught in his throat as he realized the ethereal beauty and grace of the god above him. His white curly hair was not that way with age, but glinted like the string of a bow and not a patch of it was out of place. Light from above gilded it, an angelic sheen outlining him.

Tucker remembered himself, feeling his boner pressing painfully against his jeans which had been pushed tight to his legs by the new position. He fumbled with the button and the zipper, shoving them down best as he could, moving his hips up to wiggle it out from under his ass. He shoved his hand under the waistband of his boxers, wincing at the coldness of his hand and the friction, but quickly ignoring it for the slight relief. He forced himself to go slow, teasing. He felt his breaths quicken as his self-control started dipping. His eyes darted up warily, fearful his reckless inhibition would dim at the sight of a god staring into his eyes. It didn’t.

The white glow of Mianite’s eyes was critical. The gods toga was bunched at his waist, the knot at his shoulder having been loosened. The god was straddling Tucker’s waist, his chest and abdomen visible, bare. It could have been cut from stone. Not a single hair or imperfection—it was unearthly. Tucker felt his hand hesitate, a slight fear and revere creeping into his throat and veins.

_ Holy fuck, Mianite’s a god. What the fuck am I doing? _

Mianite followed Tucker’s hand to where it had been stroking futile at his cock. A frown inched its way across Mianite’s face and as quick as the lightning streaking across the sky outside he pulled Tucker’s hand from his pants and pinned it above Tucker’s head, rather harshly slamming it onto the marble. He pulled Tucker’s other hand up, and pinned both beneath one of his hands. Tucker had yelped, his wrists were bashed together painfully, his hands flinging backwards against the marble and stinging with pain.

His dick twitched in his pants at the loss of contact and he grit his teeth, his shoulders shifting with the sudden discomfort of the painful pressure holding his wrists against the floor. The muscles in his legs fired, but with nowhere to move he could only wiggle his toes. He felt Mianite shift his hips and suddenly felt aware of the absence of pants beneath the toga.

Tucker relaxed his neck, realizing he had been craning it to watch the god. He loosened his jaw, letting his mouth open some. He had been on the verge of locking his jaw to the point of no movement. Sweat was dripping from his brows into his eyes, his hair was plastered to his forehead in disarray, and he could feel an itch on his neck from the bruises caused by the god’s hand and a similar tickle in his throat. Tucker shifted his hips involuntarily, hoping for a bit of friction. The delightful and terrible knowledge was that Mianite’s dick was likely what was rubbing up against his clothed erection.

Mianite sat up straighter, moving the hand supporting his weight to Tucker’s waist. He increased the pressure on Tucker’s wrists as Tucker moved his hips, a not-too-gentle warning telling him to stop moving. Or Tucker was going to assume that was the case, because any more pressure on his wrists and he was going to start feeling the bones break. He tensed his arms and rolled his shoulders some, but the pain didn’t lessen. Mianite’s hand brushed over his waist, his thumb digging into sensitive flesh and Tucker couldn’t help it. His hips sought friction and almost immediately Mianite tightened his hand on Tucker’s wrists once more. He felt a sharp pain and hissed.

“My lord,” Tucker warned. His voice felt hoarse and strained and he swallowed to try an ease it, but he found his mouth dry. Mianite only let up some, much too preoccupied apparently. Tucker stopped trying to follow Mianite with his head and eyes and forced himself to lay still, feeling the hand running lightly over his chest and his pelvis, not pausing to give him any relief. Mianite pushed his shirt up, splaying his fingers across his abdomen. His hand never pushed down, never fondled—it just left goosebumps across his skin as the god examined him.

Tucker felt more like a specimen about to be gutted than anything else. Mianite’s eyes were narrowed as he studied Tucker, fingers taking a careful perusal of his body. It was like the god was deciding how best to rearrange his organs.

Tucker could hardly believe he was still horny—but he was.

The god lowered himself, his mouth inches from Tucker. Tucker stared into his eyes, feeling a strong mixture of fear and desire. He swallowed and looked to Mianite’s mouth up to the glowing eyes. He wished the god would speak.

“Your heart is beating erratically,” Mianite commented.

Tucker couldn’t believe that comment. He laughed in the back of his throat, choking on the noise. “H-humans tend to do that.”

“Interesting,” Mianite murmured. He drummed his fingers on Tucker’s waist and edged the man’s waistband down. “And what other reactions do I evoke?” He leaned closer down to Tucker’s mouth, Tucker having to blink rapidly to avoid the brightness from stinging his eyes. Luckily, they dimmed as his eyelids slipped closed. He licked his lips, the space between their mouths far too close.

“Excitement,” Tucker decided on. The fingers went lower. They dipped beneath the waistband pulling it further. Tucker racked his brain, “Praise.” The god chuckled low in his chest. The rain pounding outside matched the rhythm of his laughter and the thunder the timber. The fingers were so close, his waistband halfway down his thighs. “Love,” Tucker said without thinking.

The god paused. His eyes opened again. Tucker realized it might have been wrong to speak that way to the god, but he felt a certain love. Maybe not the way he held for his friends or family, or even past…well, Sonja. It’s just the love for his god, nothing odd about that.

Mianite kissed him firmly, and Tucker shifted his head to press up against him, but it went no deeper. “If you love, love wisely.” Tucker was confused. “For I’ll give you none back.”

It left a cold feeling in his chest despite the warmth in his groin. Tucker just settled on a smile. “I understand entirely, my lord,” Tucker assured. The god’s laugh was louder this time. He opened his mouth to kiss Tucker lazily, the god chasing his own pleasure.

“I doubt you do, but if this is your desired punishment…so be it,” Mianite said as he broke off the kiss. In one swift motion he ran his fingers over Tucker’s clothes and Tucker felt the material fall away.

He wanted to protest: “You could have done this the whole time!” Instead he was overwhelmed into another kiss. Sinking fast, as if in an ocean. He felt like he was drowning or flying. Air or water could have been whipping past him, but he couldn’t find his breath.

As he was being consumed, he felt Mianite grind into him, and as the god did—his hands clenched. One bruising his thigh. And the other. Tucker’s eyes flew open and he couldn’t hide the pain. His wrist was broken. He could feel it. The sharp agony spread down his wrists, through his arms, into his shoulder, and he could even feel it in his jaw. The god only paused momentarily, loosening his hold on Tucker’s wrists, but not pulling away. “And that reaction?”

“Pain…” Tucker snapped. “Horrible pain.”

Mianite sighed. “Can you manage?”

Tucker grit his teeth, pressing his head against the ground. He immediately realized the cold and hard marble he lay on. “No…” Tucker started, but he shivered. The pain was coursing through him, and he struggled to ignore it. “Can’t you heal it?”

Mianite was quiet. “Not my specialty. We can pull you from death back to a perfect state, but nothing else…so as long as you are loyal.”

Tucker nodded; that sounded perfectly reasonable. Not that he could do much else with the pain. Mianite pressed a kiss to his jaw and he stroked Tucker’s cock, his fingers lightly gracing him. The pleasure did very little to distract from the pain, but Tucker sought it anyway. “How about now—can you manage?” Mianite asked again.

“Yes,” Tucker said. His shoulders ached and so his back. He was dying, but for this he supposed it wasn’t the worst.

“Good,” the god praised. He kissed Tucker’s neck, teeth scraping gently against the flesh. Tucker winced, but he let his eyes flutter closed. He felt the god’s hand slowly stroke him. The hands felt too warm, and they overwhelmed Tucker’s senses and put him on edge.

Close. Yet so far away. He let out a strangled moan and felt his feet twist. He needed something more. Did he seriously want his god to fuck him or was that something else an instant healing potion?

Mianite let go of him. Tucker watched as the god untied his toga and and pulled it free. With some mild sympathy he shifted Tucker out of the way some, cradling the man to his chest, and placed the toga wadded up beneath Tucker’s head and back. Tucker sucked in a breath and held it tight as Mianite moved his wrist and Tucker brought both of them close to his chest, cradling them best he could.

He got a brief flash of the dark discoloration on his wrists, the vivid purple and red before the pain blinded him. He felt like he was falling through the void, the world spinning around him. His stomach plummeting from beneath him.

“I’m going to be sick,” Tucker murmured. Mianite tilted his head and eyed Tucker’s wrists.

“Would a potion help you?” Mianite inquired.

“Yes, please,” Tucker begged.

Mianite eyed the wrist. “I shall break it back into place,” Mianite said and Tucker could only protest weakly before he felt his wrist pulled away and cracked back into its correct place—or so he assumed that’s what the god tried. Tucker bit down on the inside of his cheek muffling the howl of pain. “I think you—you”—Tucker slapped his good hand’s palm against the floor, eyes watering and he felt his body seize. He turned his face towards the ground and tensed entirely, trying to speak words. “Just crushed,” Tucker gritted out, “my bones.”

Mianite didn’t look that upset. “Hm…” he conjured a potion. “Here,” he pressed it to Tucker’s mouth and tilted it. Tucker swallowed as fast he could manage, coughing on it as it made its way down. Tucker hadn’t been finished when Mianite nudged his legs apart and pushing one of them against Tucker’s chest.

Tucker closed his eyes and waited until he could feel the pain ebbing away and he took a deep breath in relief. He pressed his tongue to the top of mouth and gingerly moved his wrist against his stomach, settling it there as the potion did its magic. He put his good arm behind his head and opened his eyes. Mianite didn’t have lube, but he did Tucker at least the small favor of wetting his fingers with his own saliva. Tucker tried to lighten the mood, hoping to quell his own nerves.

“Not gonna make me suck them?” Tucker asked.

Mianite paused, he looked at Tucker and with almost a patronizing tone. “You were occupied,” Mianite mused. He didn’t warn Tucker as he slid a finger in and Tucker flinched away, his body tightening with him. He gasped, and gripped the tunic beneath his head, forcing himself not to just clutch the god and beg him for release.

Tucker opened his mouth, eyes open as he grasped with feelings arising in him as Mianite fucked him slowly with his fingers, sliding a hand up Tucker’s chest and to this throat. He applied pressure to Tucker’s pulse and slid a second finger in. Tucker moaned. He couldn’t help it. The sensations hurt. He felt his body seize and Mianite pulled Tucker closer to him. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, but Tucker found himself sucking in breaths when he could and kissing Mianite recklessly.

He could hardly tell where Mianite’s tongue was in his mouth and where his hands were, but the pulsing, nearly electrifying sensation against his tongue and prostate spread throughout his body, like a light buzz. “God,” Tucker said between kisses. He was so close now. The pressure on his throat was making him dizzy and the fingers left him when he was  _ so close _ .

Tucker ached. His fingers dug into the tunic and Mianite pushed Tucker’s legs closer to his chest, and further apart. It didn’t give him time to rest. Tucker wasn’t sure if he wanted the time to rest.

“Mianite,” Tucker begged. He couldn’t possibly keep going. This was torture.

But could he even stop.

Mianite conjured lube now, for himself more like, as he lubed his cock. The god looked not the least bit disheveled, yet his eyes were dim. The only thing that ever seemed affected was his eyes. Tucker propped himself up on his elbows. He considered moving to stop the god, but hesitated.

Trepidation.  _ Want. _ Anticipation.

Tucker leaned back. His mind went blank. He just felt white hot torture. Pain of many states, emotional, psychological, physical, pummeled his chest while a pleasure of many sorts touched him all over.

Worst of it all, Tucker wanted to stop, because he realized there was a  _ want _ here. A fantasy of his god. A fantasy he was disillusioned from. For all the peace his god could give the land, for all his power and grace, for all of his respectable traits.

Not one was human.

Tucker wanted this. He  _ wanted _ . To feel this. He hoped it would chase the emptiness away. He wanted to feel whole. Tucker nodded.

Mianite pushed in.

Tucker couldn’t keep his hand behind his head. He grasped until he could clutch Mianite’s bicep. The pace wasn’t bearable. The friction too much to linger on. To  _ want _ .

Tucker’s eyes sought the ceiling far above. He was overwhelmed. The feelings in his chest inescapable. His heart pounded.

Tore free form his chest.

Blood flowing.

Dripping. Into Tucker’s eyes. Blinding him.

Into his mouth. A flavor like honey. A flavor like the god given apples.

The sweet cloying nectar he could smell. He could feel it embedding itself in his memories. So every one he would flip would reek of the blood he shed.

It pooled in his chest Soaking his sides. The tunic. The floor.

It flowed down the steps and was washed into the grass by the rain.

It glittered in the lighting.

And once his heart was far above him, far above the roof. In the darkened skies above shrouded in the clouds.

Lighting struck it.

And Tucker was reborn.

And it was over. Tucker shaking with post-orgasm tremors. He was over-simulated and he wondered if his heart had stopped far above him. Mianite was over him, his arms almost shaking, but the god held himself up easily. As he finished, Tucker could only really think that it was almost insulting that the god’s hair didn’t dishevel like his own.

Inhumanly perfect.

And Tucker wanted more.

And it scared and excited him.

Mianite stood and pulled his toga back on, neatly tying the knots. Tucker couldn’t move. His heart—he could have sworn it was burning in the savannah far beyond his reach.

The god almost turned as if to leave him there, but paused. He knelt beside Tucker. More curious than concerned. He gently put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, and although Tucker didn’t look, he could feel the weight of his clothes returning.

“Your punishment was served well. I will craft you new armor when the time is right so to aid you in not losing it again,” Mianite declared and with a final crash of thunder, he was gone.

Tucker could barely tell if he was alive. He felt his chest rise and fall with his breaths and he slowly lifted his hand to his chest. There was no blood. No gaping hole. Just his shirt and vest. Tucker got up slowly. He gave himself time to adjust to any soreness, examining the bruising on him. He stood, pulling his vest around him.

He was going to get a healing potion. Something to eat. And then sit in his hot tub and avoid having to discuss it with anyone. His heart was in his chest, beating rapidly and Tucker brought his hand to it.

He felt whole.

But he was not sure with what.

He made it to Declan’s before he had to sit down and just…wait for everything to catch up to him. In the distance he could hear Tom’s voice and the occasional rumble of Jordan’s as they argued. The  _ thwip  _ of a bow string and an occasional sword strike. He leaned into the table, and he felt his eyes drawn to the temple he had just left.

He couldn’t disappoint Mianite.

Tucker grabbed a sword and stalked over determinedly to Tom, only one thought circling his mind.

…


End file.
